Only 1,000 of the book were printed, which is a shame, since its $3,000 price therefore limits it to the coffee tables of owners, players and other billionaires and millionaires.  Apparently a scaled-down version is available for $295.  Presumably that edition is bound.

Good news on the auction of the super-duper-deluxe version is that proceeds will benefit RBI (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities) and the Players Trust.  Bad news is that, as of 10:15 p.m. ET on Tuesday, 10/12, the reserve has not yet been met, with $7,000 as the current bid.

I didn’t even know about two of them, which makes my visit even more enlightening.  The Steinbrenner biography by Bill Madden has gotten some play, and the arc of the Boss’s Yankees ownership begins just before my fandom, so that’s a must read for me.  Bios on Hank Aaron and Reggie Jackson were right next to Big Stein’s — Aaron has always been a huge favorite of mine, so there’s a must.  Reggie will have to wait.

I think it’s interesting that these three would have such prominent spots among the many books of all types — political, humor, cookbooks — that are featured in the most important real estate in the store.  All are famous baseball characters for sure, who transcended sports to everyday life in their time to one degree or another, probably Aaron (the Last Hero, says the subtitle) the most, although I wasn’t aware of his accomplishments and their cultural significance until later, followed by Steinbrenner (the Last Lion), by whom all sports owners are now measured.  But Jackson (the First Hot Dog?), whose impact was inextricably connected to that of the Boss, also changed the way sports stars and celebrities connected with press and the fans, hitting the nascent free agency era while in his prime.

There were actually two other baseball books on the same display, though on the back side, facing into the store.  Satch, Dizzy and Rapid Robert about those 1930s-50s star pitchers looks right up my alley, and a volume about baseball’s unwritten rules that seems well-timed with all the recent silliness regarding A-Rod’s unfortunate path back to first base on future perfect game artist Dallas Braden’s mound in Oakland.

So the Steinbrenner and Aaron tomes made it into my collection.  If I ever actually get through them both before I’ve forgotten how to write, I’ll post some thoughts… I’ve been midway through a quite good biography of Harry Houdini for a couple of months, the beginning of the baseball season and other factors conspiring in its gathering bedside dust.

I could use a Yankees rainout or two, like tonight in Detroit, and perhaps a game ending before midnight to get these cracking.

The other is a quick news piece on the Thurman Munson Awards dinner on Feb. 2, which I will be working and covering for B:B.  I’ll try to get a pic with Sweet Lou at least.  Piniella was my first favorite player — I remember my dad taking me to a game in 1977, when we lived in upstate N.Y. and going to a game was a rare treat and an all-day commitment.  We spend the morning with a roll of some kind of cardboard paper and brown paint, printing out LOOOOOOOOOOOOOU, which I dutifully held up each time he came to bat.  I liked how he hit, but I think I liked more how Frank Messer or Phil Rizzuto would always have to say, “They’re not saying BOOOO, they’re saying LOOOO” every time the crowd would serenade him.